


A Song You'll Regret

by LithiumChocolate



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confusion, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Light Angst, Non-Chronological, Romance, Self-Destruction, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-20 23:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumChocolate/pseuds/LithiumChocolate
Summary: Thanks to an unexpected romance with novelest Alex, Stanley Pines ends up spending more time on the west coast than any creepy other dimensional beings could have planned on.Thanks to bad luck (and maybe even some petty vengance from other dimensional beings) Alex finds herself in an unexpected romance with one Stanford Pines as well.Alex tries to manage both these relationships as best she can, but the Pines family is nothing if not frustrating.-Fist posting as LithiumChocolate, previously my posts were Orphaned and posted as AltaredFlesh. Added X/reader tag because I gotta just fess up and admit that is glorified self insert fic? Let's all just own that.





	1. Injured Birds

Alex saw that the gravel was loose, and saw the dog running at him, and saw that he was definitely going into the drink, and there was nothing she could do. Panic gripped her by the throat and she didn't even manage a noise as the dog body-checked him, the ground slid, and the stranger tumbled into the shallow creek without a noise. From beyond the hill she heard the dog's owner calling to her pet again, but aside from her shocked self the park trail was now abandoned as far as the eye could see. Her only company was the man sitting up in the river, ahead of and below her.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?” She ran forward, standing at the edge of the creek and reaching out to help the man up.

“I'm fine, it's fine-” the man growled as he stood, glancing at her hand, then slipped a little on the uneven creekbed. She stepped into the water and steadied him, feet immediately freezing cold in her slide on shoes.

“You're soaked, god, you're going to freeze like this!” She helped pull him back to the park trail with a few unsteady steps, then released his arm and watched as the man recovered a backpack she hadn't even noticed. He must have managed to fling it away from himself as he fell, which was probably for the best as the bag looked well worn and far from waterproof.

“I’m so sorry about that, I could see that dog and I wanted to warn you but my voice just froze or something... Do you live near here? Let me give you a ride home, you'll freeze to death if you're walking.” She looked up into the man's face, between the now-dripping locks of hair, and smiled. She was trying to be charming, hoping very much he wouldn't try to walk home in icy clothes. She was also trying to ignore the fact that behind that hair and the double layered sweaters he was pretty good looking.

“It'll be fine-” he started, but lost his sentence looking back down at her. “Uhm. How far are we from Sierra street?” 

“A ways, almost the other side of town. Not from here?”

“No, I wandered out on foot and sorta lost track of time,” he smiled his best charming grin. “Could I just get a lift to Sierra and 5th?”

“Sure, no problem. My car's this way, I’ll blast the heater while we drive.” 

She led him out of the park and to her truck, watching the last sunlight die against the horizon. He was shaking by the time she'd helped him in, and she immediately turned the tiny heater on full blast, flipping shut all the vents other than those facing him. Her shoes were wet and her toes burned with the cold, but she knew he was probably far worse off.

“Sorry for the cool air, but it warms up fast I swear. The tiny cab helps!” She kicked shut a low vent with her numb toes, and threw the little truck into gear. 

Within a few minutes the air was blowing warm on the man in her passenger seat, and she was following 5th street toward Sierra. They managed to hit every red, but that really just gave them more time to get warmed up. 

“I'm Alex” she tried, hoping now that he was thawing he'd open up.

“Stanley,” he smiled, holding his hands to the vents. “Thank you for the lift, Alex. You really didn't have to.” 

“Nah, I did! I feel awful, I saw the dog bolt past me and knew exactly what was going to happen, but couldn't think to do anything to help.”

“Wasn't even your dog, though.”

“Yeah, still. I hate seeing a tragedy unfold and not being able to do anything.”

He laughed a low chuckle that momentarily distracted her, “I fell in a creek, that's hardly a tragedy.”

She ground through the gears for a bit as she belatedly realized she had the green.

“I'm a writer, I'm allowed to be dramatic.”

Alex looked over and noticed the man's eyes were a little droopy, the warmth must have been helping. But he was still soaked: her bench seat wouldn't be dry for days in this weather.

“So is it Stan, or Lee?” She asked, trying to keep the man awake.

“Been Stan a long time,” he muttered, sitting up straighter. The words, his voice in general, sounded resigned.

“That a good thing?” 

“Not always.” 

“Let's call it Lee then. Well Lee, how'd you like the park? Other than the water feature.”

She kept him talking, trying to keep her questions relatively impersonal. After his initial drowsiness he seemed to perk back up, and they managed to keep the conversation going across town

As they got closer to Sierra, Alex realized this wasn't residential: it seemed to be a mix of office buildings and a few convenience stores. 

The man was shivering much less now, and pointed to a corner drugstore parking lot, “There's fine.” 

She pulled into the lot and followed his eye line to the back. A lone car was sitting dark, and from their relative height in the truck she could see that it's backseat was full of clothing and boxes. The man managed to look anywhere but her and the car.

“You're staying here?” she tried very hard to keep her voice light, not sympathetic.

He was still for a moment, then nodded.

“There's no way you're going to be able to get dry and warm in a car,” she left the truck idling, chewing her cheek. “Promise you're not an axe murderer?” 

“What?” He looked over at her finally, confused.

“Go get it started and follow me. I've got a washer and dryer, and you can at least get warm. And do any laundry you've got, if you want.” 

“I couldn't-” he started, hand on the door.

“Lee, I just got to know you, you're not dying of cold in a parking lot,” she tried to sound firm, tried using the tone her mother had used on her father when he was being an idiot. “Now go warm your car up and I'll wait.”

She waited while he warmed up the car. And while he fiddled with something in the glove box. He glanced up and seemed to sigh, but without hearing him she couldn't be sure. She smiled at him patiently.

“Come on you idiot, don't look a gift horse in the mouth on this one,” she muttered quietly, all the while smiling.

She saw the car shift, heard his engine drop into gear, and gave him a thumbs up. He returned it, looking a little weary (she wondered if his heater worked, that really was an older car) and shockingly he followed her as she led him out of the lot and around the block. 

She took a slow and straightforward path home, skirting the downtown hub. At one point she noticed that Lee had missed a light behind her. She glared back, knowing he'd had time to make it if he'd tried, watching him at the red through her rear view mirror. She flicked on her hazards and pulled over, waiting for traffic to pass. With a casual wave, that only she would know was fueled with a touch of vindictive triumph, she turned back onto the road just ahead of his car.

A few blocks later and she was parking street-side across from her apartment, and watching Lee attempt a parallel spot. She hopped out of her tuck, locked it, and waited at the curb during his 18 point turn. Finally he killed the engine and stepped out of the car.

“Almost lost you on Paloma,” Alex smiled as saccharinely as possible.

“Grandma, the way you drive it'd be impossible to lose you.”

“Psht, you're calling me an old lady? You missed three greens. It's like you were trying to get lost.”

Lee looked down a moment, and she couldn't tell where the shame on his face came from, so she barreled through it.

“But,” she continued, “If you didn't want to come with me, you could have just made a random turn at any time. So I guess that means you're just an awful driver.”

She pointed across the way and up, “That's me. If you've got laundry to do, grab it. I've got enough detergent to satisfy Lady Macbeth, so bring up as much as you want.”

“Has anyone told you that you're confusing?” He asked as he shoved scattered clothing into a sweatshirt.

“Not today, but in the past, sure.”

He wrapped the sweatshirt up in itself, now stuffed with laundry, and locked the car as he exited. The hurried across the street, her holding the door to the stairs as he juggled his things. After a few shared breaths in close landings and doorways, she ushered him into her studio.

“Washer is immediately to the right. Dryer isn't amazing, so you might need to run it twice on the jeans.”

“Thank you,” he gently unfolded his bundle and stuffed the washer. 

She paused, tapping her nails together, “I have a pair of pants that might fit you, hold on.”

After a moment of digging through drawers, Alex handed him a pair of jeans obviously from an ex boyfriend. The knees were ripped, but the fabric looked sturdy enough otherwise.

“Think these will fit?” 

He held them up: they'd looked a pretty close fit,“Yeah.”

“Super.” She smiled, “If you want to wear those, you can wash and dry your current clothes. In fact, I suggest you take a shower to warm up while you wait on the washer.”

He paused, holding the jeans, and she waved a hand before he spoke.

“It's literally nothing: landlord pays for water and it's a huge boiler for the whole building. Go nuts. You like chicken?”

“Yes?” Lee padded toward the bathroom with his new jeans.

“I was gonna make some for dinner. It's as easy to cook for two as for one, you want to stay and eat?”

He paused, “If I say you don't need to do that will you be charming and insistent anyway?”

She laughed, “You catch on fast.”

“You're lucky I find pushy charming.”

“Ha. Clean towels are in the cupboard in there.”

She turned and headed into the kitchenette at the back of the apartment. Most of the space in the so called kitchen was taken up by the refrigerator and stove, so she quickly cleared the small dining table and used that area to prep the meal. At a shuffled noise she glanced up, to see Lee had changed into the spare jeans (just a little loose) and was adding his damp clothing from today to the already running wash. With a click he disappeared back into the bathroom and she resumed her work.

After most of 30 minutes Alex had managed to steam the green beans, boil the potatoes, and was just pulling the chicken from the grill. The sound of the shower had ended a few minutes ago, and when she looked up there was Lee, looking warmer finally. He did look terribly uncomfortable, shirtless, and she tried not to stare to ease his anxiety. She'd caught an eyeful of muscle, a few bruises, and the pink twist of a new scar cutting through an otherwise fairly fuzzy chest. 

“Thawed out?” she blinked at the green beans, trying to focus once more.

“Completely. Don't think I've been this warm and clean since winter started.” he stood awkwardly for a moment, as though unsure what to do.

“Washer finished just a minute ago,” she added milk and butter to the potatoes and began to mash them. “Dinner's almost done.”

He nodded, then began moving the damp clothing to the dryer. She noticed him pause with a damp shirt in his hands, as though debating putting it on anyway.

“Lee it's about 65 degrees in here, you put that on it'll never dry.”

“You make a good point,” he tossed the shirt in with the rest of the clothes and began the dryer. “Just didn't want to scar you, what with a strange man hanging about your place shirtless.”

“Oh Lord, a male torso, my virgin eyes may never recover!” She pressed a hand to her forehead, potato masher suspended in the air.

“What will the neighbors think?” He laughed as he said it.

“They’re too stoned to care. Best kind of neighbors in my book. Sit, dinners up.” She set the pot of potatoes, now creamy and whipped into peaks, beside a plate.

“This is enough food for at least 4 people,” Lee didn't sound surprised.

“Would you believe if I said that I over cooked by accident?” She waited a beat with no reply. “Or maybe you got wise and realized that I'm just going to do nice things and fighting me on it is pointless?” 

Across from her Lee half smiled, “Why are you, though? Being so nice, that is.”

“Well you are cute,” she joked, serving herself a small chicken breast. Stan seemed to stare, but she didn't notice. “But mostly why not? It costs me nothing. Well, a few bucks in food, but I'm okay there. And I like your company, so that's a fine trade for me. If we were friends already, would any of this seem like I was being 'so nice’ or just a decent friend?”

“But we're not friends, we just met today,” 

“We just met today, but we are so friends. I decree it, it is now so, just deal with it.” With a smile over her plate she began mixing her green beans and potatoes. 

A warm silence stretched for a moment, before he looked up and nodded. “Okay. So, what do you write?” 

“Oh, mostly I write short stories, things I can submit to anthologies and magazines. It's a little easier to break in there than novels,” she began.

By the time dinner was finished, and they'd both enjoyed seconds, she'd had a chance to explain a bit about being published, and a bit more about her city. He hadn't volunteered much data for himself, seeming more interested in keeping her talking about something she loved.

“Anyway, now you have a brief introduction to short fiction writing and publishing in Portland! You'll never need the knowledge again, but hey.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair and sipping at the coffee mug full of white wine which she'd poured them after they decided second helpings were on the agenda tonight.

“Do you read much fiction?” She asked, sipping her drink as well. She didn't want to pry, but he'd certainly noticed that she'd been the center of conversation tonight.

“Nah, not much fiction. Not much time for it. I wasn't the A student back in school. I liked it, though, what I had time to read. Used to like sci-fi, reminded me of family. Liked Bradbury.”

“He's one of my favorites. It's not about the science fiction with him, it's about the people. I think all writing is just an excuse to tell interpersonal stories. The settings just help us frame the thing.”

“Don't know much about that,” he shrugged. “Been a long time since I read his stuff.”

“Hm, one sec,” she said, then stood to duck behind a half wall. When she came back, she held a paperback. “Here, Dandelion Wine. It's a bunch of short stories all tied together. You can have it, I've got more books than I can read.”

“Is that whole wall bookshelf?” He asked, turning the book over in his hands.

“Yep. The thing about a studio is there's almost no privacy. I put up that shelf first thing, so I could hide back there in bed. Make blanket forts, not be able to see the dirty dishes. Or my typewriter.” 

Lee flipped over the book, noticing a name written in pencil on the first page. The lettering was terrible, the shaky scrawl of a elementary school child. He thought to refuse the gift, but already knew he'd take it: it was a beautiful gesture and a tangible memory of the kindness he'd almost forgotten people were capable of. He felt something relax in his chest for the first time in days.

Hours later they had finished the bottle of wine and were sober again. Lee had held onto the book most of the evening, and once he'd had it had relaxed and begun volunteering some information about himself. They'd talked about horrible bosses, the worst hotels they'd ever stayed at, the best (actual best, not just most overrated and popular) poets they knew of, and after her long defence of Frost, Lee laughed.

“Okay, but people who say he's their favorite are still pretentious jerks.”

“Oh, totally,” she giggled, “He's a good poet but shouldn't be a favorite! Too banal.” 

A warm silence stretched out before them. Lee stood, picking up her glass and rinsing it in the sink. After a moment he began to do the dishes from dinner, and she moved to help dry and put away the plates and silverware. 

“It's late, I should let you get to sleep. You've probably got things to do in the morning.” Lee stood, drying his hands on a dishtowel.

“Not me. Tomorrow's another exciting day of work, which means nothing scheduled.” She shrugged, leaning against the counter next to him. “You could stay.”

He silently threaded the towel back through the cabinet's handle. 

“I mean. There's a sofa, I have quilts,” she paced away, pulling a stack of blankets from the shelves above the washer. She moved to the sofa, dropping them down, and he moved to stand beside her and look at the quilts. They were both silent, staring at the uneven stitching, when finally he spoke.

“I was kinda hoping you didn't mean the couch,” he looked over, letting the back of his hand brush hers.

She turned, her hand scrabbling to grip his, “I didn't, that was a cop-out. I don't do this.” She looked up at him, now much more aware of his relative undress.

“What, take in strange men ya find in rivers?” he laughed deeply, and tentatively reached up to her face, brushing her hair back.

“Ha. No, I don't. I also don't normally sleep with people I've just met.”

“I mean, we may have just met but- well ya said it yourself, we're friends. There was a decree, I think.” His free hand was trailing fingers asking her jaw now, and she realized she had gripped a belt loop on his jeans.

“Well since we're already friends,” she sighed the words, leaning up on her toes.

His lips brushed hers gently, trying not to crowd her, letting her set the pace. His free hand was tangling her hair loosely. He kissed his way along her jaw, nipping at her ear slightly, then sighed the words into her skin, “Tell me to take you to bed.”

She moaned, kissing him again roughly, and began pushing him backwards.

“Bed, now. Coherent sentences another time.”

He laughed, and let himself to be herded past the bookshelf and into her bedroom. He felt the bed for a moment against his calves, then was being pushed to sit on the mattress as she climbed into his lap. Now almost at the same height he pulled her into a slow kiss, running strong hands along her arms and thighs, sliding a palm along her spine. With a jerk, she leaned back, stripping out of her blouse and bra efficiently.

“Slow down sweetness, we've got all night.”

“Promises promises,” she smiled against his lips. She did slow, then, fingers tracing the half-healed scar on his chest. She pushed him back into the bed, to lean over his chest and place one kiss on the fresh skin, then kissed her way further down his chest, tugging at his zipper as she did so.

“Doll, you don't have ta-” 

“Want to,” she replied, looking up as she tugged the borrowed jeans off him, then pausing. “That okay?”

“Hell yes, I'll keep my mouth shut and stay quiet if it helps.”

“Well,” she mused as she reached into his boxers, freeing his length to the air. “I mean, verbal encouragement is always useful.”

She smiled up at him before swiping her tongue tentatively along the head of his cock.

“Then, uh,” Stan paused, blinking and trying to form his thought. “Then may I say fuck yes, more of that please?”

“Yeah?” She laughed, and repeated the motion, running her fingers along his length when he made a soft gasping noise.

To her left she saw movement and watched his hand move a few inches then clench up. She gently took the first inch of his length into her mouth, watching his fist tighten. As she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, she reached her hand up, loosening his fist and guiding his hand to the back of her head.

He moaned and fisted a handful of hair. With a tentative push he guided her head down, and she immediately reacted, taking more of his length into her hot mouth. As she pulled up there was an obscene slurping noise. His hand clenched in her hair. He pushed her head down gently again, and looked down to watch her take more of him into her mouth with each bob of her head.

For every gentle pull and thrust she took just a little more length into her throat. After just a minute he felt her take almost all of him into her mouth, and he pulled his hand from her hair, forcing himself to be still and not thrust further upward against her lips.

“Jesus fuck, Alex! That's so fucking good-”

With a gasp for air she pushed further than before, sliding her lips down his length. He could feel the head of his cock pressed tight against the back of her throat, then could feel the slow give as she swallowed him-

“Stop, stop, fuck,” he gently pulled her up, looking down to see her gorgeous swollen lips and a sly smile.

“Too much?” She sat up, wiping a line of drool from her chin with a laugh.

“Yeah, good Lord. I think I saw stars for a minute there, and I'm not gonna let ya off that easy,” with a soft shove he rolled her over, then kissed her hungrily. He nipped gently at her lower lip as his hands ran over her ribs, then lower to run broad palms against her hips, thighs. He peeled back the sift denim of her jeans along with her panties in one slow slide.

His hand slipped between her legs slowly as she moaned into his kiss. Two fingers ran through her already slick folds briefly, then were gone. Before she had time to object, Stan broke the kiss and tasted the wetness on his hand.

“Ya taste like heaven,” he whispered the words, burying his face in her neck as his fingers slowly explored her labia again. The rough scratch of his stubble caught on her throat, and she bucked up into his hand seeking more sensation. He laughed into her hair, then whispered, “Can I eat that beautiful pussy of yours now, dollface?” 

For a moment he pulled back, looking her in the eye, making it a real question instead of mindless pillow talk. 

“Please. Fuck. Yes. God yes.”

He grinned down at her, and for a moment the lust in her belly was overridden by an incredible fondness for the man above her. Then he moved quickly down the bed, throwing one of her knees over his shoulder and licking against her folds.

The flat of his tongue explored her gently, and his hand slipped in under his mouth, parting her folds as he licked. One blunt finger pressed against her opening, pushing slowly into her. His mouth found her clit, nipping and licking and sucking against the bundle of nerves. With a clever circle of his tongue he pushed a finger fully into her, and she gasped, legs jerking against his skin. 

“Fuck, ah, need you!” She gasped trying to tug him up gently, but he simply shook his head slightly. She felt him smile against her somehow, then felt another finger ease into her, felt the stretch as he pumped his hand against her slowly. Her head fell back for a moment, which did cause him to stop.

“Hey, common angel, look at me,” his voice cut through the silence. She straightened, looking down at Stan, and as she locked eyes with him the gentle thrusting of his fingers resumed. “Don't look away, okay doll? I want to watch ya. I wanna see that pretty little face when ya come for me.” 

His words cut straight through her body, and a desperate moan escaped her before she could think about it. For a moment she fought to keep her focus on Lee, keep her eyes on his. But after just a few more seconds she felt herself coming apart, eyes rolling as she clawed the sheets.

“Jesus Lee,” she was panting, found that at some point he'd crawled up the bed. His fingers were still slowly pumping into her, easing her through the shaking aftershocks of her orgasm, and he was grinning.

“Mh, you are one hell of a desert,” he smiled down with more than a little smugness.

She reached down, taking his hand, and brought it to her lips to lick his fingers clean. When she noted that his lips had parted in a moment of surprise, she leaned up to lick the taste if herself from his mouth as well.

“I think you're right. But I want more.”

“Uh, I-” Lee looked down at her, “I gotta be honest I have no idea what that means in this situation?”

“I don't know!” She tipped her head back with a giggle, “It just sounded good? Like something from a porno!”

His face was pressed against her shoulder as they laughed, his stubble scratching softly at her throat. 

“But I want more,” he mimicked in a high half-feminine tone. She dissolved into further laughter. Finally she pushed him sideways.

“Here, move a sec,” she rolled over, straddling him as she reached past him to the dresser. Her hands grasped blindly, arms stretched completely as she fumbled in the drawer. Her breasts were pressed up against his face, so with a smirk Lee mouthed at one. Alex gently batted at his hands as he softly pinched a nipple.

“God, I can't get five seconds without you trying to eat me up,” she let out an exclamation and sat back down, one condom pinched between her fingers.

“Oh, my apologies for wanting to taste every bit of ya, darlin. It's just-” he rolled his hips, reminding them both that they were in fact totally nude. “It's just you're so damn delicious.”

“If we go back to food allegories we may lose the plot here,” she giggled as she worried the condom wrapper open.

“The food what now?” Lee smiled up at her as she quickly rolled the condom down his length. His face was so open, half blissed-out, pupils wide. She leaned forward, kissing him thoroughly with a wave of sudden affection.

As she leaned back she reached between them, slipping his length between her folds. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging in just a little harder than he'd intended, and her moan at that dull pain sent a shiver along his spine.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Lee started to say something more but she dropped her hips down, sinking onto his cock with a fluid roll.

His hands scrabbled on her skin for a moment, and she felt her nails biting into his chest slightly as her body tried to adjust to him. Before she'd fully processed the sensations she rolled her hips again, desperate for more, for friction and heat.

She could feel the slow build of her orgasm approaching as she rode him, a vague ephemeral high at the end of heat and breath.

“Oh fuck, Lee!”

“Jesus,just don't stop doing- That-” His hands gripped at her hips hard, digging delicious bruises into her skin.

“Ah, your hands!” She jerked in his grip.

“Shit, sorry,” he began to slide his hands away, but she grabbed at them, fingers over his, pressing them back into her skin. He smiled up at her, “Oh, ahhh. Got it.”

His fingers gripped tight again, and she gasped. Her movements slowed, she was distracted, riding an edge of dull pain just in front of a blinding wave. Stan felt her slow, looked up into her face to see her eyes hazed and distracted.

“Come on doll, cum for me,” with a grunt he shifted his hips, lifting her and thrusting hard against her, resuming her previous pace. In moments she was gasping, coming undone above him, and watching that alone sent him over the edge after her.

She rolled off of him, panting, using one hand to keep the condom on him. 

“Good God.”

“Yeah,” he sat up and slid the condom off, then gathered the wrapper up. “But you can keep calling me Lee.”

She rolled, burying her face in his shoulder laughing, “You ass. Want to shower off?”

“Will you be joining me?” He stood, helping her up with one hand.

“You already have me naked.” 

“I'll take every chance to get my hands on you naked that I can manage.” He threw his trash away as she dragged him past the kitchen.

“Well,” she pushed back the shower curtain and pulled him inside, “Maybe you should prove all the reasons we should get naked together, and I'll have motivation to let you come visit more often.”

He laughed, trailing fingers along her skin as she brought the water to temperature. When she finally pulled him into the hot shower he looked down at her, eyes half shut against ricocheting droplets. 

“Does that mean I should call you up, uhm, the next time I'm in town?” He pitched the question low, voice soft in the air.

“Yeah, call me, and maybe I'll even let you make me breakfast.”

He snorted, “Why do I feel like you'll actually make breakfast and try to overfeed me.” 

“Can I convince you to find it charming when I'm pushy?”


	2. Always I'll want you, always 'till the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: these chapters are all out of order as hell!
> 
> Other fact: while I love the Stan's, oh my god am I going to make them dysfunctional and bad at relationships. FYI. This will not be a series of meet-cute or "if they just talked about things this wouldn't be a plot point" arguments. It's definitely going to be three adults fucking up their relationships over several years.

When Ford noticed the red cloth he paused mid sentence, and was silent for a time. Finally he quietly spoke, trying to look nowhere at all.

“Is that his hat?”

She paused in her folding of laundry. As her hands stilled she looked through the rainy window at the early dawn, not bothering to turn around to check. She knew what it was.

“Yes.”

“He's still coming around then?”

“Why are you asking?” Her hands curled into the shirt she held. “You said you didn't want to talk about this, and I agreed.”

From the chair she heard a shuffle, a shift of weight that caused the old wickerwork to creak. Ford lifted his hands to his face, still doubled over, now gripping his temples tightly. “You shouldn't trust- he takes advantage of you.”

“Then so do you,” she half spat the words, and resumed her folding, listening to the rain patter in their silences.

“I should go,” he half rose to his feet.

“Sit, you jackass,” Her hands finished folding the laundry, stacking the last shirt onto a pile in the pillowcase before her. “I didn't say you had to go.”

Ford settled again, now at the edge of his seat but no longer threatening to leave. 

“I don't. I don't mean to hurt you, to take something from you than-”

“Shh, hush now. Honestly jackass isn't the only word for you right now. Maybe the only halfway nice one. I don't actually think either one of you is taking advantage of me. Those are your words, to be clear. But if you think he's taking advantage of me than so are you. I care about you both, you both got the exact same conversation when we started this. You're no better or worse than one another. But you'll notice I'm not complaining, you two are the ones who keep acting like you should feel outraged on my behalf.” She moved to stand before him, carding her fingers through his hair. He felt his hands come to her hips, to pull her closer and bury his face against the fabric of her shirt. 

“Every time I come here, I swear I won't come back. I won't drag this out for us. And here I am,” he muttered the words against her stomach.

“I'd miss you, if you stopped coming by.”

“Would you?” Ford looked up at her, glasses askew but face open. His question wasn't at all rhetorical.

“Yes. I'd worry for you and miss you.” She removed his glasses gently, but his face monetarily twitched in pain. “Stop thinking. You need a shower and some pain killers for your head. I'll toss those clothes in with mine and do another load of laundry. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No,” he winced and slowly came to his feet with her help. “I was thinking, I was- I was doing some calculations.” 

She laughed at him under her breath, and led him through the dim post dawn light to the bathroom. The sun was rising yellow behind the rain where Ford could see it. He shut his eyes against the glow, allowing himself to be led through the small apartment. When he next looked around he saw the glow was dimmed, blocked by the plants on the bathroom windowsill. The sound of rain was loud through the open window, dewing the plants with a gentle mist through the screen.

Ford stood, blinking for a moment at the tub without real thought. She gently began to untuck his shirt, and he moved to face her, helping undress himself without embarrassment. As he kicked out of his underwear with eyes half closed, she shed her dress as well.

Ford started up the water, wincing at the noise of the bathtub tap, flipping the aged pipes to the shower setting quickly. By the time she was nude, hair pinned back haphazardly, the water was warm and he helped her in.

Ford glanced down, unsure why she had joined him, then closed his eyes as her hands reached past him for the soap and began to lather them both. They bathed in relative silence, listening to the drumming of the shower and the rain. After, he leaned against the wall holding her close so they could share the warmth of the spray. His eyes were closed, as she hummed something under her breath, cheek against his chest. The intimacy wasn't erotic or sexual, but nonetheless it made his breath stutter. A chill wind stirred his hair from the window, and he risked a glance down, watching the water catch in her eyelashes.

“Why let me in, all these weekends.”

“Here,” she ignored him and gently pushed him under the water as she stepped out. “Soak your head a bit, the warmth will help your migraine.” 

When the water began to run cold, Ford quietly turned the shower off. On the counter waited two pills and a glass of water. He finished both, then glanced around realizing she'd taken his clothes. The washer lid tapped shut quietly, and as he exited the bathroom Ford felt a cool hand take his.

“Come on, to bed.”

“I want to spend time with you-” he began.

“Then I'll join you in bed,” she pulled him gently to the bed, her fresh stockings and sweater making him very aware of his lone poorly-tied towel. Her studio was divided into partial rooms by a long bookshelf, and from this side Ford could read the titles on the spines.

“The Chronicles of Narnia?” Ford asked as he slipped under a cool white comforter.

With silent steps she pulled the curtains on the low sun and hummed, “Yeah. I'm re-reading it and trying to see if I can get past the blatant Christian allegories as an adult better than I could as a child.”

“And can you?”

“No,” she slipped under the covers beside him, pausing to pull the damp towel he'd worn in to the bed back out, and throwing it against a chair with a laugh. “No, it's still too ham-handed. But I like different parts more now, I find. Puddleglum, for example.”

Ford rolled to his side, pushed lower under the covers then her. With a contented sigh he pulled her close, pressing his face into her soft grey sweater. The throbbing in his skull was persistent, but like this he could bear it. He could focus on it, feel it instead of fighting it. He stayed still and awake, eyes closed but unable to sleep through the waves of pain. Her breathing was too loud, almost painful, but precious and wrapping him up in the moment.

She rose, twice, on cue from the dim buzz of an egg timer. The second time she brought the mostly-dry laundry back to dump in a chair by the bed, and spent a few moments hanging damp items around the room. 

He considered getting up, getting dressed, leaving this delicate safety before he could harm it somehow like he had the shower. But then she was climbing back into bed, sans sweater and leggings, and wrapping her limbs around him to pull him close again. After a few moments of shifting skin-against-skin they settled, his face buried in her hair, and he finally slept.

When he woke she was splayed against him, their legs tangled. Her part-time cat was nestled between his feet, locking him in place. The sun was bright, but still somewhere before noon, and was slicing through the intermittent clouds to cast blurry shadows from her lace curtains. The mottled light caught on her arm like a faded tattoo or water stain.

Ford shifted slowly, sending the sleepy feline to seek less occupied napping locations, and ran the backs of his knuckles along the edge of light-patterned skin.

She murmured gently, then rolled to tuck her face into his chest, holding still there while he wrapped his arms about her.

“How's your head?” She muttered into his skin.

“Can't tell yet. Seems a little better, at the least, but it could start to hurt again once I get out of bed.”

“Just have to stay in bed then,” she stretched, spine arching, her whole body rolling in his arms. He loosened his grip, and found at the end of her movements she was leaning over him, sleepy eyes blinking down at his. “What could I possibly do to keep you in bed…” 

He smiled at her teasing tone, and began to lean up for a kiss when she gently centered a hand on his chest and pushed him back to the mattress.

“Ah, stay there. I'm trying to think of ways to keep you in bed.” She feigned a thoughtful pout. “Oh, how about this?” 

With her hand in place and keeping him relatively still, she leaned down to press a line of kisses along his jaw. 

“Or this,” she murmured the words again, trailing teeth and tongue along his neck. He gasped at the feeling of open mouthed kisses along his collar bones.

“Think this will keep you still for a bit?” She glanced up, seeking confirmation from him.

“I'll try my very best to hold still, I assure you.”

She smiled then, and resumed her trail of open kisses down, nipping her teeth along his ribs, dragging fingernails softly against his hips. As she moved the duvet shifted, and with a brush of cool air he glanced down to see them both now naked in the pale half light. 

With a sudden rush he realized exactly what an ass he'd been today. He'd arrived before dawn but at an hour when no one could have been awake, yet she'd let him in. He'd bitched about her other lovers, even though the last time he'd seen her it had been to comfort her when one of those other lovers had left her brokenhearted by issuing ultimatums she'd told them all she wouldn't tolerate. He slept in her bed, and she'd crawled in with him, forsaking her work and sleep schedule to hold him. And now that she'd cured his aching skull, she was going to make love to him, despite all he'd done.

“Alex,” the words stuck in his throat for only a heartbeat. “I love you.”

She smiled up from between his legs (and Jesus that was a sight he planned on committing to memory, to carve in the stone of his bones and paint on the flesh of his brain, to take with him beyond this universe or even death) and kissed his thigh, then laughed at him. 

“I love you too, ya jackass.” 

Then she stopped talking, and Ford felt himself melting, and the sun continued to shine on them through the tangled lace curtains.


	3. Red as strawberries in the summertime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, a meet cute scene of some kind.

The air had dropped just beyond “crisp” and into “frigid” as soon as the sun had set. It was still bright out, but the change in the air had driven the student body indoors, and Alex found herself hurrying across a deserted campus.

Her excitement kept her moving, she was thrilled (and a tad nervous) to meet her client and get her hands on the manuscript she was actually going to be working with.

S.F. Pines was nothing more than a voice on the phone and a hastily reviewed undergraduate thesis to her at the moment, but she was already a little smitten. She'd been given his number by a friend who was still grinding their way through an art major, and was told only that “the man wrote like an engineer, and I don't mean that in a charming way.” Even though she'd had very limited experience with cowriting, Alex had managed to cold-call Pines to ask if he needed a ghost writer for his upcoming book. He had, and after a few minutes of conversation Pines admitted he'd actually read some of her student work in the old archive of the campus quarterlies. Alex had drunk exactly one and a half glasses of wine before the call, trying to loosen up her courage, but upon hearing this she'd excused herself from the phone for one moment, gulped down another glass, and come back to ask him what he thought about her work.

He'd stammered for a moment, then launched into the most flattering review she'd ever heard. She had refilled her glass.

After what felt like just minutes it was past midnight, and Ford audibly stifled a yawn in the middle of his own sentence. They'd agreed to a call tomorrow evening, to talk about the actual work he needed done. On the second call they were both more reserved, and Alex wondered if the cool mood was due to embarrassment from oversharing last time they spoke. She felt silly that they'd clicked so well, talked so long and deeply, been so open with each other in just one call. 

“I'll actually be in town this weekend, picking up some lab equipment. Would you have some time to meet me and get a copy of the manuscript?”

“Yes,” all of her prior cool and professionalism left her in a moment. “I'm free all weekend. I mean, I have plans, but uhm. Nothing with a set time. When would be good for you?” She asked this while trying to untangle to phone cord she'd managed to knot into her own hair.

“Saturday evening would work well for me. Would you be able to meet at the University?” 

“Of course.”

She'd confirmed a time and location, then hung up and stared at the little notepad by her phone. She'd doodled flowers on the first three pages, distracted teenage butterflies and an oddly menacing set of teeth. She breathed deeply, trying to mentally accept the fact that she was a little bit smitten, then crumpled up the art and took a shower.

Alex arrived on campus a full half hour before her meeting with Stanford. She had an excuse, however, as she was running by the sculpture studio to deliver muffins to the friend who'd provided Stanford's number. Whether or not she ended up working with the scientist, she felt muffins were the least she could do to thank a starving college student. Also she'd needed to burn off nervous energy, and baking muffins at 2am had helped with that.

After lingering in the studios for as long as she could manage, Alex wandered down to the campus cafe, and grabbed a cup of stale black coffee from a machine just to warm her hands. By the time she was near the modern art fountain of precarious balanced cubes it was nearly five o'clock, her designated meeting time with Ford. Stanford. Stanford Pines, she corrected, trying to keep her brain in some kind of professional space. 

He was sitting on the far side of the fountain, on the windward side where the spray of frozen water wouldn't pepper him. She blinked past the icy spatter and moved around to greet him, positive he was the right man based on the stack of hardbound thesis papers beside him (who even checked those out?) and literal tweed jacket with elbow patches. 

As she rounded the corner Alex spent a moment worrying he would be incredibly banal looking, which she thought would be just criminal with a voice like his. Maybe that would be a good thing though, maybe she'd be able to see past her ridiculous crush and actually get to know the man. 

Her toe caught on something, and she blinked down to see that the cement here was uneven, thrown up by tree roots. Alex managed to stop her fall, dropping her coffee to splatter and steam uselessly on the cement as she caught herself on the squared off edge of the fountain. 

“Are you alright?” The voice was familiar, the man was indeed Ford (Stanford, damnit) and was already helping her up from her half crouch next to the cooling puddle of coffee. “Alex, right?”

She looked up, pulled to her feet by warm hands, and stopped breathing. The voice was right, but her eyes were all wrong somehow. And now that familiar face was speaking, and he was pushing up glasses with a hand she thought was holding something, but no, it had too many fingers (and that, her brain supplied, was something you really ought to have noticed when they were on you skin and inside you, and oh GOD) and he was saying something like “... hit your head?”

“I think I must have, yeah,” she managed while she was led to sit on the side of the fountain. Warm hands were brushing back her hair, muttering something about not seeing any head wounds and that was good. She managed to whisper out, “Ford?”

He pulled back, and she saw his nose was straighter under those thick glasses, and his lips didn't sneer with   
that short scar Lee had above his lip on the right.

“Yes Alex?”

“Would you mind taking me someplace warm where I can get my shit together?”

“Certainly, ah. Let's go to the cafe.”


	4. The trapeze act was wonderful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst! Except not, I'm seriously awful at angst. Drama might be more accurate. I'm one of those people who can't even sleep if they're having a fight with a loved one, so I'm not writing a chapter where anyone goes to bed worried their relationship might be over. It is or it isn't, imo.

“Hold on hold on, I heard you,” Alex juggled her bags to the kitchen table, then bolted back to her desk to answer the ringing phone. With a full body stretch and the toe of one foot she kicked the door closed. “Hello, this is Alex.”

“Lexi my girl, can I come pick ya up at seven and take ya dancing?”

“You don't dance, and a hard no on Lexi.” She settled into the chair at her desk and began idly twining the phone cord in her hands. “But if you promise not to use that nickname again, I might be inclined to see you. Want to come by for dinner?”

“No, Alex, darlin, I'm taking you out on the town! The thing with the rabbits worked out, and I want to show my girl a good time!” The voice on the other end of the line nearly purred the last part.

“Rabbits, do I want to-? No, you know what, I don't. But come on, don't waste your money Lee, save it. I'll enjoy a night in with you and a rental video just as much as a night out.”

“Yeah, but I want to take ya out, get drinks, see the sights,” he was excited now, and she didn't have the heart to say no.

“Okay. I mean, it's Portland in autumn, the sights are sideways rain, but okay. When you gonna come get me?”

“Be ready at eight, and maybe wear that blue thing?” He sounded hopeful.

“That blue thing still needs a seam fixed after last time I went out with you. But I'll wear something in that style, and that's a little more durable.”

“Mmh, I like the sound of that plan.”

“Just be here on time, you jerk,” she hung up, then twirled in her chair twice, then stood to put away her groceries with a bounce in her step.

At eight twelve Alex herd the knock on her door. She wasn't nearly ready: this was the most “on time” Lee had ever been. She swung the door open, then immediately turned to present her back and the open zipper of her dress.

“Zip me up?”

“Jesus, sweetie, what if I'd been the little old lady next door, looking for a cup’a sugar?” Lee stepped into her apartment, sliding one hand under the fabric of her dress.

“Seems to me that's just what you got,” she joked as he slowly dragged the zipper up, rough knuckles dragging against her skin.

“There you go, gorgeous, all set. Though we don't have reservations or nothing, if this was your way of suggesting we be late I can help with that zipped again…”

She turned, and kissed him. “Hello Lee. I missed you.” 

He leaned into the kiss, hands on her hips, fingers tangled up in her hair.

“I can tell. You look amazing.”

“You look good too. Your hair is a reasonable length I see,” Alex teased, and ran her fingers through the back fringe of his obviously new haircut. “Did you finally realize the mullet was a terrible idea?”

“Hey, I made that look good. Er, as good as ya can make it look. And what about you: hair color is darker, and all these curls, you look like a movie star. You been seeing some nice musician while I'm away?” Stan stepped back and gave her a once over that was obviously mostly for show.

“You introduce me to a musician in this town that's not broke as hell, I'll give him a call,” she laughed dryly and slipped back into the bathroom. He leaned in the doorway as she slipped on lipstick and searched for the right pair of earrings.

“So no record execs I should know about?” He tried to sound joking. It fell flat.

“Lee, don't do this. Not tonight,” she turned trying to smile but looking disappointed nonetheless.

“No, you're right. I don't know why I said that, must just be the shock of seeing you after so long. It's been six months and I just forgot myself. Won't happen again,” he looked up at her through thick lashes, something he knew got to her every time, and tried his best to look contrite. It must have worked, because after a moment she was breezing past him, smiling, and sliding in those earrings.

“Where are we going anyway?”

“Twenty Mile, Donnie's new place,” He opened her front door with one hand, and scooped up the jacket she'd left on the armchair with the other.

“Walking or driving?” Alex locked up her door and paused in the hall to bat her eyelashes.

“Walking, if you don't mind it. I actually parked at Donnie's and walked over, just so we can't possibly drive in some state of inebriation.”

“Your registration expired or something?”

“Ah, you're too clever for my tricks Lex,” he raised an eyebrow on the last word, testing the name.

“Hm… Better than Lexi. I'll have to think about that one.”

Lee grinned like he'd won a dollar scratch card, opening the buildings door to a gust of crisp air. The walk over was surprisingly rain-free, though low clouds kept the air chill and damp. 

~~~

Donnie had offered them dollar-a-pitcher beer as some kind of opening promotion. They had taken advantage of that immediately and honestly by the end of an hour Alex was beginning to forget how many pitchers they'd had. Donnie had come over to take back their empty pitcher, and had left two tall glasses of water in front of them with raised brows. 

“Oh shit,” Lee mumbled into his hand with a laugh after Donnie was out of earshot. “Are we that annoying loud-drunk couple everyone hates?”

“Not me, just you. I'm charming.”

“Weeeeell, miss charming, your lipstick is smudged.”

“Hold the fort and I'll freshen up,” Alex stood with a tipsy giggle. She swiped a dab of red lipstick off on one finger and booped Lee on the cheek with it. He scrubbed his cheek as she left, downing a good portion of his water in one gulp.

Alex managed to make it to the bathroom without stumbling, but once inside leaned on the counter and grinned at herself in the mirror, “Ha, you're drunk!” She laughed at her reflection for a moment, then wiped off her lipstick with a tissue and reapplied it. She blinked a few times, used the toilet, washed up, and gave herself a final once over: good enough, considering.

“Oh my God, Al?” The voice surprised her, and she turned just outside the bathroom door.

“Jessie, my gosh! How are you? I thought you were in Vancouver?” Alex leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the taller man's cheek. 

“I am, just visiting Cary, and the new baby.” 

“Ew,” Alex smiled even as she wrinkled her nose.

“We're about to take off for downtown, you wanna go?” Jessie gestured to a few friends of his, apparently smoking outside.

“Nah, I'm on a date.”

“Really? The grifter in the blazer?”

“That's him! But call me tomorrow, the number’s the same.” They squeezed hands and said their goodbyes briefly, and Alex wandered over to Lee feeling much more sober.

“That was Jessie, haven't seen him in at least a year! Gosh, that's so cool, I love that Portland is so small in some ways.” She slipped back into her chair and sipped on her water.

“Seemed well dressed for this joint. How you know him?” Lee seemed quite, but she brushed it off.

“Oh, Jessie dated my old college roommate. The three of us used to wander around downtown, trying to find a bar that wouldn't card us.”

“Ah,” He perked up, finishing his water. “Good.”

“Why good?” 

“Well I mean. Listen, I don't love the thought of running into one of your ex boyfriends out here one night.”

“Ha, that'd be awkward,” she said. Silently she thought please drop this.

“Or a current boyfriend. That's pretty much my nightmare, to be honest,” he plowed onward. “I was thinkin, honestly, and was wondering. Well, you know the rabbits worked out and I'm pretty stable, I was thinking maybe you might want to move in with me? We could find a new place, outside of town, I could finally be around more often.”

“No, Lee. I like my place, and while I like you a lot this is what I want. We've been over this: I'm not the marrying type and this life is my ideal. This is my long term goal.” She swished the last inch of ice water in the glass. Would that be it? Could she stall this talk until tomorrow, when they were both sober? Or at least, more sober?

“I know I'm not as good as your fancy life here in the city-” 

“Lee, that's not it-”

“- I'd just thought maybe you cared enough about me to settle down, call it quits on the whole 'can't pick a man’ thing.”

“Lee. Don't do this.”

“I understand hedging your bets and I'm sure I'm nobody's first pick, but come on, you can't say you love me and expect me to believe it if-”

Her palm hit his cheek before she realized she'd even moved. “Fuck you Stanley Pines. Don't try to tell me that I don't know who I am.”

It was raining when she stepped outside, a light mist that her father used to call “spitting” back when he'd told her about coastal weather. She despised that name, the memory of it making her hunch her shoulders unconsciously, and she stormed down the street furious from one more little thing. 

After a moment she heard a scuffle behind her.

“Alex! Wait, Lex, please- ah fuck!” She turned to see Lee hopping on one foot, wincing and trying to look pleading through a wave of pain. “Lex, I'm sorry. I fucked up, I'm drunk, I'm so sorry. Please don't leave it like… Don't go.”

“Lee, you're an asshole.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

She glared at him, limping a little closer but stopping a few feet away. She wasn't sure if he was being polite or scared she'd swing a punch.

“Okay,” she sighed, glared up at the sky, then sighed again. “Okay. We're both drunk and we're not doing this right now.”

He looked shocked, hurt, unsure what 'this’ could mean.

“For fucks sake Lee, I'm not leaving you I'm just mad.”

“Oh. Okay. That's fair.” He limped a bit closer, but she backed away.

“Nope, not ready to forgive you yet either. Okay, here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna go back in the bar, and probably have a beer or two if I know you. Sleep in your car, wake up feeling like piss, and come by my place at noon tomorrow, okay? We'll talk then. I'm gonna go home, shower, be mad, be sad, and wake up feeling slightly better than you and smug about that. Got it?”

“Yeah,” he shifted from foot to foot, wincing but unable to hold still. “I can manage that.”

“I love you Lee. Now fuck off,” she turned and started up the street. After a moment she heard him pipe up.

“Love you too Lexi!” 

She flipped him off over one shoulder, but found herself smiling nonetheless. Tomorrow's conversation was going to be painful, but she was sure they would be okay at the end of it.


End file.
